


Intentions

by WriterChick



Series: Quite Alive [1]
Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Crush, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, POV First Person, Smitten, butterflies in the tummy, lol, musings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:06:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23972032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterChick/pseuds/WriterChick
Summary: Takes place after the Season 4 finale. Stiorra's inner thoughts about Sigtryggr as they travel together.
Relationships: Sigtryggr Ivarsson/Stiorra
Series: Quite Alive [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861171
Comments: 16
Kudos: 75





	Intentions

He’s a great warrior--of that, there is no doubt--‘the Dane who took Winchester,’ as he told me the first time we spoke. One would think he meant to boast, though that was clearly not his intention. Men who boast do not trouble themselves with comforting others, and he was only too quick to add that despite his considerable power and might, he would not use force against me. 

Rather, he said that he would not force ‘a woman,’ so perhaps I am not so special, as he did not say ‘Stiorra,’ though I’m certain he knew my name by then. I should not care that he spoke so broadly, and yet the idea that he would act so honorably with another woman in my place has become a bur in my side. 

There is no room for petty jealousy, especially since I have no claim to him, no standing in his clan, and am viewed by most as little more than a bargaining chip to use against my relations. That is not to say that he doesn’t see that same potential in me as well. Only, that he seems to see more. 

Sigtryggr is cut from a different cloth, a fact I willingly embrace. He is a man of honor...and gentle, even. When I told father as much, the look he gave me was one of doubt. I forced myself to pay it little mind. Father spent so much time away in my younger years, that he will only ever see me as a babe because of it. He certainly won’t see me for the woman that I’ve become, capable of discerning a man’s character. He believes that because I am not as worldly as he, I lack the ability to sense deception, or at the very least, recognize it as a possibility. 

That could not be further from the truth. 

I do not need to have taken a life or traveled over treacherous seas in slavery, to learn to trust my gut. My instincts were gifted to me by both my mother and my father, so he should not be so quick to dismiss them. Besides, I do not lie--not when it counts. Not to him. Not to my father, the great Uhtred Ragnarson of Bebbanburg. 

I secretly name him so because he is Saxon by blood and Dane by heart, making him as much of both worlds as I am. No one else may value that, but I am keen to. Purebreds inherit a lineage of flaws, while it is us mutts that thrive, taking only the best traits. Where Father and I may lack in prestige--that much was clear upon reading Alfred’s Chronicle aloud to Sigtryggr--we make up for in strength, resiliency, and wisdom beyond our years. 

Wisdom enough to recognize someone of value when we see them. 

Sigtryggr’s men say he’s descended from Ivar the Boneless, himself. Which I see no need to question, since he is so accomplished in warfare, having survived Irland to land at Wealas and cut so easily through it to get to Winchester. The stories tell of Ivar being as cunning as he was ruthless. While I know that my captor is ruthless, that he was able to negotiate with my father and secure himself Eorforwic in Northumbria alone, speaks to his cunning. He cares for honor, but is not so blinded by a need for reputation that it clouds his judgement. Other men might not have taken Wealas or Winchester, knowing their kings weren’t there to offer much of a fight. Sigtryggr recognized the opportunity and took it, regardless of how it appeared to others, always knowing that a fight would come after. And when it did, he favored negotiation when it was fruitful. 

And he listened to me. 

No. He didn’t just listen. He _asked_. 

He cared enough to ask me for my words. 

Too many men live off of assumptions as if they are truth. They are all too content to see what they want or what is convenient and act with an immediacy they pretend is decisiveness rather than impulsivity. 

I love the men in my father’s company--his family, but they are just as bad as other men in this regard. Their hearts are in the right place and they too understand that things are not as simple as Dane or Saxon, but they do not see any more than they want to. They do not care to ask. When I promised that I could fight, that I had been sharpening my skills all the while I was alone and playing nursemaid, they chuckled. As if what I had to offer was a joke. They just assumed because of my size, that I would not be much use in battle. 

While Sigtryggr may have defended me against Eardwulf, I feel deep in my bones that he would listen to me when I tell him that I want to fight. He called me weak only to make a point when he beat him, but I cannot believe that he truly sees me as such. If I were not his hostage, he might have even begun to train with me. 

I do not know what I am to him now, as I know he requested me in the bargain to leave Winchester. If I were his companion, I would not be part of a negotiation, but the freedom he allows me on the road with him, makes me think he no longer views me as a captive meant to be shut away or bound. 

What he does not know, is that whatever I am to him, I have chosen it. I offer him no fight or argument for our current situation, because I have none. I asked my father not to protest this arrangement and he won’t. For his blood, Uhtred Ragnarson will go against his own desire to have me close. Sigtryggr does not know our words, only that we had them and shortly after, my father agreed. 

Sigtryggr does not know how greatly I want this--him. 

I understand now why lovers make stupid choices, because even though this thing between us lacks definition, I want him. For how long, I cannot say, only for as long as it lasts.

There are moments when I think he might want me too, that he sees me for the woman I am, not the child everyone else sees. Though, his cunning could easily turn on me once we arrive at our destination. Perhaps his interest is all a ploy to gain leverage over my father, and his taking me with him was simply to keep an advantage. 

I do not know his intentions, but I do know that whatever they may be, I will enjoy each and every moment I am granted by his side because this man is unlike any other. He spoke to me when he did not need to, and listened because he wanted to learn, even if it slowed his plans or changed them. 

I told him stories because I am proud of who I am and where I come from. I was careful not to reveal any of my father’s real weaknesses to him, still unsure of his motives. And I played games because he indulged me, and that told me much more about him than anything I could have heard. 

He gave me bread when I was hungry--even though I would not bring myself to ask--even though it was the last of such luxury. He said he was not counting, though I doubt that is true. A man like Sigtryggr accounts for everything and knows well what he gives up and keeps for himself. One might think what he offered me was small, but I know it was great. It was greater still that he made such light of it. 

I do not wish to see falsely, but I wonder if perhaps that was his way of telling me that, to him, I too am unlike others. After all, he stopped me from ruining my face--perhaps it is because he likes looking upon it. Would he bother pretending not to track scores with another woman? Would he even spend any of his time--not humping--with another woman in the first place? 

I must stop this thinking. I go around and around inside my mind until I feel drunk on what might be. And for what purpose? Was this how Mother lived loving Father? No. His intentions were clear, so she was saved the torture of such endless and persistent thoughts. Thoughts that come from feeling alone. 

Only time will reveal his true intentions and I have to be ready for whatever they are. Still, I can not find it in myself to let go of his words to me, and the spaces between them. I keep visiting the time when he said that if he wanted to hump a woman, he would not need to use force. As I search the words, I can find no room for the meaning that he did not wish to hump me. Only that he would not hurt me. And that he sees me as a woman.

Whatever his intentions are, it is fitting that he would invest in our conversation. Sigtryggr does not always look to a sword to solve things. That does not mean he is too hesitant to wield it, if necessary. He’s hardened steel forged from need, and polished by ambition, to a shine. 

I’m not talking about his smile, though that is quite bright. Or the glint in his eyes as we talk. They are so warm as they watch me, that I must turn my head to avoid them heating my cheeks. When our eyes meet, my insides clench and flutter and I forget to draw breath. I often see men in leathers, tightly fitted to their bodies, revealing the muscles that holy men lack. 

Being around my father’s men, I have learned not to allow myself to grow any fondness based on how one fills their armor, but I find my rules crumbling out from under me when I look upon Sigtryggr. He is a little older and much more lived than I, so it is of little use to nurture an affection for him. If he does not already have a woman back in Irland, he will be looking for an equal. While I am confident in my ability to match him in many ways regardless of my age, there are areas in which I lack experience that matters.

That has not been a problem before, as I do not wish to have children. I might have once when I was younger, before having them dumped on me to care for, for so long. Regardless, I am embarrassed that I would even allow myself to consider that it might be a problem now. 

Sigtryggr has made no advances on me. When we are in a room together, he is often seated out of arm's reach. On the road, he rides alongside me, but that hardly means anything as he shifts his position amongst everyone. When we set camp, he orders his men away from my bedroll, continuing to treat me as if I am an honored guest instead of what I truly am. It has not escaped my notice, however, that he places his own the closest to mine. Though, it is still not near enough to be beside. 

His gaze would be as intent on anyone that interested, be them man, woman, or child. It is of little consequence that he humors me with games and listens to my stories. At worst, his kindness is a manipulation for the information I share, and at best, I am merely entertainment to him--a cure for boredom between battles. It does not matter that he has beaten men for intimidating me, or that he will not allow another near me. 

I will not fool myself into believing that it is because he favors me. I know that I am leverage--a way of making father comply. These feelings I suffer, are one sided and if I am not mindful of them, they could cost me my life. 

Whatever his intentions may be, I remind myself that as I told Father, I am here for the adventure. In the meantime, there should be no fault in choosing to appreciate the handsome view. The rest will reveal itself in time and I will act as only my father’s daughter can: swiftly and with conviction.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I feel like if I were writing this based off of the books this would have looked very different. And I wouldn't have minded either way, tbh. Stiorra seems quite different in the books, as is Sigtryggr--and I like both versions! On TV Stiorra is spunky and outspoken, and in a position to be at Sigtryggr's will, whereas in the books she is much more controlled and she has the upper hand on him when they meet. Also, in the show, Sigtrggr's intentions are much more veiled than in the book. In the book, he's quite vocal about his attraction to her, whereas in the tv show there are a lot more subtleties (which I look forward to writing about in my next one shot in this tag) to notice and if you didn't know that they end up coupled, you might miss them. Regardless, this was a pleasure, and I hope it helps the tag. Thank you for your patience with how rough it is and I look forward to reading each new contribution to the ship!


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